


Raised On It

by mandaestella



Series: Montevallo [1]
Category: Alexbelle
Genre: 4.5k later, F/M, Oops, So here we are, but i am obsessed with those videos, exes truth or drink, this was so self-serving it is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 15:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13344339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaestella/pseuds/mandaestella
Summary: Alex and Isabelle have been broken up for a couple of years when he calls her up and asks her to play Exes Truth or Drink on camera.





	Raised On It

_Cheap gas and ready ice_

_Trunk music and headlight fights_

_Dodging the smoke from a riverbank fire_

_A pretty girl and a pickup line like_

_“Hey, what’s your name, you know smoke follows beauty, baby”_

 

They’d been broken up for three years and she would still do anything for Alex apparently.

 

When he had called her to ask her to go to the Smoke studios and do a video with him, she had only hesitated for a second. Of course, she told him she would have to get back to him, hung up and immediately called her best friend. Jackie had told her not to go. Jackie had never liked Alex. She would lie to Isabelle, tell her that she liked him at first, but Isabelle knew the truth.

 

So she didn’t tell Jackie that she was going to go. She just texted Alex back, a quick _see you there_ before she threw her phone on the bed and went to take a really long hot shower, cut short by a phone call from the devil himself.

 

“So what exactly is it?” she asked him, quickly grabbing a towel and drying her hands off.

 

“I’m not telling you, Belle.” His voice drifted lazily over the line, a smile floating underneath his words. She could almost picture what he was doing, laying on the couch, phone on his chest, one arm hooked up underneath his head. He was predictable, and that’s what she loved about him. Used to love about him, anyways. He had always been so chill, almost too chill at the end. He wouldn’t fight with her, wouldn’t have a serious conversation with her, wouldn’t stop her from freaking out about things. She never thought too relaxed would be a bad thing until it was.

 

“How come?”

 

“Because it’s more fun this way. Trust me.”

 

Trust him. Ha. Yeah, right. But for some stupid reason, she still did. He explained to her what Smoke was, that it was a company that essentially made Youtube videos, all kinds of stuff, trying to get people out of their comfort zone. Even after he finished telling her about it, she had no idea what to expect. In fact, she was probably more confused.

 

“Just be there at two o’clock tomorrow.”

 

So she was there at two o’clock, pulling up to the studios a little early, checking her makeup in her car mirror before flipping it up and taking a deep breath. God, she was stupid.

 

Someone banged on her window, sending her heart rate skyrocketing. “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself, pushing the door open to see Alex standing there, his hand braced on the top of her car.

 

He was as beautiful as ever, and she knew she was in trouble.

 

“Hey baby,” he said, smile going straight to her bones. “You came.”

 

“Of course I did. You know I can’t say no to you.”

 

“Oh I know,” he smirked, and God only knew what he was thinking about. “You ready?”

 

“I guess so.”

 

He followed her into the building, his hand hovering somewhere around her lower back, and small parts of their relationship flashed back to her. He was always touching her: his hand on her back out in public, his leg pressed up against hers at the movie theater, his lips moving over her neck in the early light of the morning. He fell asleep holding her hand, woke up curled around her like a comma.

 

Everything in the studio was bright white – the couches, the floors, the walls, the tables. There were a bunch of people sitting around on laptops, typing away furiously or editing, video cameras scattered around the room. Once they saw Alex, everyone got up, coming over to shake his head or do that weird bro hug back pat thing.

 

They came up to Isabelle next, introducing themselves in a swirl of names that she would never remember no matter how hard she tried. “Did Alex tell you what’s happening today?” one of them asked her. Willow, maybe? 

 

“He did not.”

 

Willow laughed. “Well, you might be really in for it.”

 

People were rushing around, setting up cameras and mikes and booms and a whole mess of stuff Isabelle hadn’t seen since her acting days. There were a couple of guys setting up a table, a chair on either side, facing each other. There were a couple of shot glasses in the middle of the table and glass bottles of alcohol with the labels taken off.

 

“Oh no…” she said, suddenly realizing what was happening. She’d seen these videos before, always thought they were hilarious. Until now, that was.

 

“That’s right, Belle,” Alex said, slinging his arm over her shoulder. “Exes Truth or Drink.”

 

It was an easy premise. The Smoke writers had come up with questions. They would ask each other questions. They would either answer or take a shot. It became a lot harder in execution. A makeup artist circled around Isabelle, touching up her foundation and dusting her with powder. Alex fussed with his hair. They got settled in their chairs, Isabelle shifting uncomfortably. And then the camera light was glowing green, and Alex leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table.

 

“I’m Alex,” he said to the camera. “And this is my ex-girlfriend, Isabelle.”

 

“Okay,” one of the producers said from behind the camera where he was sitting in his chair, holding his notes. He was tall, skinny, a shock of brown hair. She thought his name was Jack, but she could be way off. “Can you tell us how you met?”

 

Alex looked at her. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “It was like… three years ago?”

 

“About three, yeah.”

 

“We were in a movie together, and we met on set, and that’s… that’s about it.” She remembered it well, walking into the hotel on that first day in Atlanta and seeing him sitting there, talking to Liam Hemsworth. She knew immediately that she liked him, was attracted to him at the very least. If only she’d known then what she was getting herself into.

 

“We dated for about two years. We were gonna move in together,” Alex said, shifting a little uncomfortably. “And then we broke up about a year ago.”

 

“That was a while ago,” Jack said.

 

“Yeah. I had to pick a safe ex,” Alex said, everyone in the room laughing.

 

“Okay,” Jack said. “So the first thing we’re gonna do is a lightning round. We’re gonna set a timer for one minute and Isabelle, you’re gonna answer as many questions about Alex as you can in that minute.”

 

Oh, Jesus Christ. Was it too late to say no? She heard herself say yes.

 

“Ready,” Willow said, cuing up a timer on her phone. “Set… Go.”

 

“What was the name of the teddy bear Alex won you at the fair?”

 

She made a face, Alex shaking his head at her. “Oh God, I don’t remember. Next.”

 

“What is Alex’s full name?”

 

Easy. “Alexander Richard Ludwig.”

 

“What kind of car does he drive?”

 

“Oh shit. It’s… black?”

 

Alex snorted. “What’s your favorite thing about Alex?”

 

She didn’t even hesitate, the words slipping past her brain before she could catch them. “He always made me laugh.”

 

“Thanks,” Alex winked at her, her brain fizzing out for a second. “That one was just to make me feel better.”

 

“What is Alex’s dog’s name?”

 

“Tiny.”

 

The timer buzzed, and she let out a deep breath. “That was terrifying.”

 

“You don’t know me at all,” he said, laughing.

 

“Shut up.”

 

She would feel bad that Jack had to keep them on track if he wasn’t the one torturing her in the first place. “You can get started on the questions whenever you’re ready.”

 

Alex poured a couple of shots, automatically going for the Fireball because that’s how much of a chotch he actually was. “Cheers, Belle.” She raised her glass to his, tapping it to the table before throwing it back, a shiver going down her spine. As disgusting as ever. Well, it could only help, right?

 

Alex picked up the first card, cringing visibly. “We’re just going in, I guess,” he said, glancing around the room, everyone trying to stifle their laughter. “What did your friends and family think of me?”

 

Isabelle didn’t even try to answer, splashing some more Fireball into her glass and raising it up to him, downing it quickly.

 

“That bad, huh?” Everyone laughed, and she just shrugged.

 

“It’s still early. We don’t have to go there yet.”

 

He put the card face down on the edge of the table. “I’m gonna ask again. That was a dumb question.” He grabbed another card. “How long did it take you to get over us and what did you do?” He slapped the card down. “I can answer that. It was a month and you dated some other dude.”

 

Everyone burst out laughing. “Well, you have to drink now since you answered my question.” Isabelle pushed the vodka towards him, feeling the Fireball start to sink into her bones, loosening her up a little. She picked up a card, reading it quickly to herself and mentally shaking her head. Come on. “If we were the last two people on earth, would we hook up?”

 

“Oh hell yeah,” Alex said, shrugging. “The sex was great.”

 

“This is… embarrassing.”

 

“But true.”

 

“Okay, your turn.”

 

“When did you know it was over?” Alex asked.

 

“When you were being kind of a dick,” she said quickly, not even thinking about it. “That’s when I knew.” She got a snicker from the crowd watching. Alex cocked his head at her, sticking his bottom lip out like he always used to. She would do anything for him when he made that face. That’s what got her into this mess in the first place, although it was definitely more interesting than she had thought it would be.

 

She picked up another card. “Am I – oh, God – am I better in bed than who you’re currently with?”

 

“I’m not with anyone,” Alex said easily, like it didn’t change everything. “But the last girl I was with, definitely.”

 

“Do you think you’re better than who she is currently with?” Jack asked.

 

He shook his head, letting out a breath of air noisily. “Oh definitely not.” He looked up at her, eyes flashing bright blue. “Are you with anyone?”

 

“No.”

 

There was an awkward pause. “Well then. What should I change for my next relationship?”

 

Isabelle paused, cocking her head to the side. There were a lot of things she could say – be more attentive, talk about how you feel, don’t be a dick – but it didn’t matter. She pulled the vodka toward her, dragging it across the table reluctantly.

 

“Really?” Alex laughed.

 

“I just feel like my opinion here is not valid,” she said, wincing as she took the shot. She was glad a few seconds later that she had as soon as she read the next card. “Did you ever cheat on me?”

 

Alex closed his eyes, baring his teeth in a wince. He had. She knew it. He knew it. The whole world knew it actually. Even thinking about it brought her back to that night.

 

“I mean… you know,” he said. “So I’m gonna take a shot anyways.”

 

She remembered it well. She’d had a photoshoot in New York, had woken up one morning to her phone blowing up, emails and texts and voicemails from her publicist. She knew immediately that something bad had happened, and her first thought, of course, was Alex. But when she opened up the video link that her sister had sent her, not even glancing at the accompanying text message, her heart stopped.

 

He was fine. He was more than fine clearly, but he wouldn’t be when she got back there. It was a grainy, dark cell phone video, clearly taken across the street from the Roosevelt in Hollywood, posted on YouTube by PopCandies, the bane of her existence. She could see Alex, wearing jeans but dressed up in a black jacket, saw him walk across the front of the club, people milling around. She saw a familiar blonde head – Leven in a black dress. And she watched as Alex walked right towards her, pushing people out of the way to get to her, watched him grab her by the neck and kiss her, his mouth moving over hers one, two, three times before he pulled back, saying something. The person taking the video was too far away to hear anything, but it didn’t matter what he was saying.

 

She kept watching, unable to look away. It was like watching a car wreck. Someone else came up to them, Alex turning his back to the camera to talk to someone behind him. Leven hugged the person who had walked up to them, and Isabelle realized it was Mark, Alex’s best friend. As she did, Isabelle could see her catch sight of the camera over Mark’s shoulder, her eyes widening as she did a double take, and she quickly turned her back.

 

The video cut away, showing Alex shaking people’s hands as Leven walked up to him, putting her arm around his waist before moving in front of her, her arms around him, rubbing his back under his jacket. Isabelle watched Leven whisper in his ear for a few seconds, the moments dragging on for an eternity. The video cut again a few more times, the images coming quickly. Alex with his mouth pressed to Leven’s ear. Mark looking around. Alex with his arms around her. And then Leven standing by a taxi, Alex coming up behind her and ushering her into it, his hand on her back the same way he always touched Isabelle.

 

She put her phone down quickly, her hands shaking. It was clear as day, right on the video. And she was almost surprised – she really thought that after two years, she had Alex locked down. She had never doubted it.

 

Suddenly she was back in the Smoke studios, Alex looking at her over the table, his skin flushed red under the neckline of his shirt. She poured another shot, closing her eyes as she swallowed it.

 

“Moving on.” She grabbed the next card. “Okay. Well. I dare you to take a body shot off me.”

 

“This seems like a consent situation.”

 

She laughed. “You can do it if you want. If not, it says you have to take two shots.”

 

“Well, what are you waiting for, Fuhrman?”

 

She got up, her chair scraping on the floor, laying down on the table as best she could. “Oh my God,” she said, her back cracking. “I’m a hundred years old.” Alex laughed, pouring a shot.

 

“I think you should stand on that side,” she said, pointing up by her head.

 

“Wait, where does it go?”

 

“What? Where were you going to put it?”

 

Everyone laughed as Isabelle grabbed the glass from him, sticking it in her mouth. Alex leaned over her, close enough that his eyelashes were brushing her cheek, and he grabbed the glass in his mouth, tilting his head back, a little whiskey running down his neck.

 

“You wanna go next?” he asked her, cheeks flushed.

 

“Yeah, why not?” Alex pushed her off the table gently, helping her sit up. He flopped down, foregoing the shot glass completely, pushing his shirt up and pouring Fireball straight on his stomach.

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

“You gotta just go for it, Belle.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him, trying not to let him see her smile. She bent down, pressing her hand against the flat of his stomach, feeling the muscles twitch under her palm as she licked the alcohol off him. This is definitely not what she had imagined her day looking like when she got up this morning.

 

“Anyone else want one?” Alex asked, still flat on his back, raising the liquor bottle. “Jack?”

 

“I’m good,” Jack said, bent over laughing.

 

They both sat back down, cheeks a little flushed, Alex tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Next question,” he said quickly, pushing the stack of cards towards her.

 

“Who was the first person you made out with after we broke up?”

 

“Oh boy.” Alex tiled his head back, staring at the ceiling. “You know it was Leven.”

 

“You’re childish for that,” she said, shaking her head. After this many shots it was almost funny. “Childish.” The crew laughed, the tightness in her chest dissolving a little bit.

 

“Do I ever – what?” Alex looked up from the card, scanning the room. “Who on earth wrote this?” Jack smirked. “Do I ever pop into your head when you’re having a wank?” Isabelle snorted a laugh. “I mean, you do for sure. Wait, why am I answering this?”

 

There was a solid sixty seconds of laughter, Alex putting his head down on the table, shoulders shaking. “Let’s move on.”

 

Isabelle grabbed a card. “Do you think I’ll be a good wife?”

 

The laughter died down, Alex getting uncharacteristically quiet. He knotted his hands together, looking down. “Fuck yeah.” He looked back up at her, eyes a little wet. “I wanted you to be my wife.”

 

The breath caught in Isabelle’s chest, rendering her speechless. Everyone was speechless apparently. She leaned back in her chair, trying to distance herself from the pure hurt radiating out of Alex’s eyes. “You did?”

 

“Oh, hell yes.”

 

It was quiet for a few moments, long enough for Jack to tell Alex that it was his turn. “What would you change if you did it over again?” Alex asked.

 

Isabelle took a long time to answer, thinking through her answer carefully. She thought back to how things had ended, what had happened when she got back to New York. She’d sent Alex one text before she had to go to the photoshoot, and all it said was _I saw it._ He didn’t answer, but he was standing there when she got off the plane.

 

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice raspy like he had just woken up or was getting over a cold, so deep that she could barely hear him. “Can I drive you home?”

 

“Okay.”

 

He took her bag from her, staying just far enough away from her that should could feel the heat coming off him but couldn’t touch him. She wanted to, wanted to reach out, wanted to say that they could work it out but the truth was she didn’t know what she thought anymore. She had tried to convince herself on the flight over that what she wanted didn’t matter, that she needed to do what was best for her even if it wasn’t what her heart was telling her.

 

They got in his car, Alex opening the door for her and looking like he wanted to say something. They drove in almost complete silence back to her apartment, the only sound coming from the radio, something stupid and poppy playing over her thoughts. He parked the car, turning to her and opening his mouth, but she didn’t want him to say it, didn’t want it to be that time, so instead she just got out, grabbing her bag out of the back seat.

 

He followed her inside wordlessly, standing there like he hadn’t been there a thousand times, waiting for her to open the curtains and yank open a window and turn the lights on, trying to let as much light in as possible. “Belle,” he said. “We’ve gotta talk about this.”

 

“I don’t want to,” she said, her back to him. “It’s not time yet.”

 

“We have to.”

 

She turned to face him, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

 

“I was drunk. I was being dumb. I can’t… I don’t know what to say. I can’t explain this.”

 

“Did you sleep with her?”

 

He was quiet. “No. But I… I almost did.”

 

“What stopped you?”

 

“I love you, Isabelle. I knew that what I was doing was fucked up.”

 

She was hurt. She was angry. She was embarrassed. But above all, she was just really, really sad. To find out that way was horrible, sure. But to know that her beautiful boyfriend had touched someone else, kissed someone else, held someone else… it was almost too much to comprehend and she had to think about it in short, small bursts so that her head didn’t explode.

 

“Was she better than me?” Isabelle asked, knowing that she was being a glutton for punishment, knowing that what she was doing – what she was about to do – was only going to prolong the agony.

 

“No one is better than you.”

 

“Prove it,” she said, and that was all it took, the wall coming down. Alex covered the distance between them in three steps, throwing his keys on the couch. He kissed her hard, like he knew it was the last time, and she kissed him back, trying to tell him how hurt she was, how sad she was without saying it. He fisted his hands in her hair, pushing her backwards into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

 

“Isabelle,” he whispered into her mouth, pulling back a little.

 

“Don’t say it,” she said. “I don’t want it to be over yet. Don’t say anything.”

 

But he did, said I’m sorry over and over again, burned it into her lips and traced it into her skin. He said it as he moved inside her, said it as he came apart around her. And she cried when he got up, cried as he watched him get up, get dressed, walk out. And that was it.

 

“I… uh… I wouldn’t have let you leave that day,” she said, finally answering the question. “I would’ve asked you to stay. I think we could’ve worked it out.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

She grabbed a card, desperate to clear the air of their nervous energy, but the next question wasn’t any better. “Would you go out with me again?”

 

Alex didn’t pause, leaning forward on his elbows. “You know the answer,” he said. “I know I fucked up. I’d do anything to get back what we had.”

 

Once again, Isabelle couldn’t say anything, Alex’s blatant honesty too raw, like hitting a nerve, that zing going up her spine at his words. He had never spoken like that in their relationship, had always assumed that she knew exactly what she was thinking. But sometimes she needed to hear it. She needed to know that he was in.

 

“Do you still love me?” Alex asked, turning the card in his hands over and over. She knew he was nervous because his leg was bouncing up and down under the table, practically shaking the liquor bottles onto the floor. She reached over instinctively, touching his leg with her foot, stilling him.

 

“I mean, yeah. Of course. Always will.”

 

They looked up at Jack, all of the cards flipped over, all of the questions asked. “So… what next?” Alex said.

 

“Well,” Jack said. “Now you just have to kiss.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Kiss or take a shot. That’s the last thing.”

 

Alex looked at Isabelle, the question in his eyes. She could feel all the alcohol running through her veins, making her brave. “Let’s do it,” she said, shrugging, trying to be nonchalant like she hadn’t thought about this moment a hundred times, albeit never in this scenario.

 

They hadn’t hooked up again after they broke up, not even a kiss. Alex kind of drifted off the face of the earth for a little while. He had gone over to Europe to film Vikings, his Snapchat and Twitter and Instagram completely untouched for a couple of months. They had been together, really blatantly together, and everyone knew when they broke up. It was hard for Isabelle to be back in Los Angeles, in her apartment, in their city. She saw Alex everywhere even though he was thousands of miles away.

 

She had no idea where he was doing or who he was dating. She still had his number, still had him on Snapchat but actively didn’t look at any of his stories once he started posting again. She’d talked to him a few times. He called her on her birthday, late at night, clearly drunk, his voice syrupy through the phone. She told him to have a good Christmas, he texted her when he saw her on that Nike billboard in Times Square. He liked all of her Instagram pictures. She retweeted him when he was working with refugees and giving speeches for the Radcliffe Foundation. But all of their interactions were small, adding up to almost nothing over the year they had been broken up.

 

“Okay,” he said, grabbing the necklace hanging around his neck and twisting it back and forth. “Let’s fucking do it.” He pushed his chair back, coming around to her side of the table and pulling her up. She could remember how she felt when he kissed her the first time, the twentieth time, the hundredth time, like he filled up her entire frame and she couldn’t focus on anything else.

 

Alex didn’t give her a chance to move or breathe or do anything. He slipped his hand under her hair, holding her firmly by the back of the neck with one hand, looping his other arm around her back until she was pressed up against him. And he kissed her, insistently and firmly and breathlessly. She realized that she was holding onto his shirt for dear life, like if she let go she might actually fall down.

 

He pulled back first, stroking her cheek slightly with his thumb, looking at her like she was the only person in the world, like they weren’t in a room full of people watching them, like there weren’t cameras trained on them.

 

She cleared her throat, looking around. “I feel like we should applaud or something,” Jack said, breaking the silence, and everyone laughed, clapping. “How did that feel, Isabelle?”

 

“I, uh…” She knocked her knuckles lightly against Alex’s chest. “That was… something.”

 

Alex smirked directly at the camera, reaching behind her and pouring two more shots, cheersing her.

 

“High five for drinking more than half the bottle,” Isabelle said, steadying herself on the table, not sure whether it was the alcohol or the kiss that was making her legs so shaky.

 

“You gonna show this to Madeline?” Alex asked. “Or Jackie?”

 

She laughed. “We’ll see.”

 

The crew thanked them all, shaking hands, telling them they would get a text when the video was up. “You need a ride?” she heard Jack ask Alex.

 

“Nah, I’ll get us an Uber.” His use of the word us was not lost on her, even in her alcohol-soaked mind. And he came over to her, putting his hand on her back, almost pushing her out the door.

 

It was crazy bright outside, felt like it should be dark out, but even after the white of the studio, she was practically blinded, digging around in her purse for her sunglasses. “Hey,” Alex said and he was right there when she turned around, blocking out the sun. “Come home with me.”

 

And he kissed her again. It was different this time, less like an ending and more like a beginning, like they had all the time in the world to talk about what happened, what might happen, what should happen. So she followed him into the waiting car, knowing that they would be okay.


End file.
